Dear Commander, Dear Inquisitor: The Deep Roads Correspondence
by Transcendental Starlight
Summary: A series of letters between the Inquisitor (human Mage) and her Commander set during the events of The Descent DLC. Rated T to be on the safe side. **Major Spoilers for The Descent **Minor Spoilers for The Jaws of Hakkon
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: I am currently unhealthily obsessed with Dragon Age Inquisition. This idea developed when I was working my way through Jaws of Hakkon and imagined Cullen asking my Inquisitor why she was ignoring the problem in the Deep Roads. I decided my Inquisitor was claustrophobic and not a fan of underground spaces. Thus, when she is in the Deep Roads, writing letters to Cullen helps her get her mind off her fear, plus it allows me to work in a different genre and explore their relationship from a new angle. Enjoy!**

Nalívæ closed her eyes, momentarily blinded by the soft blue glow of the wisp she had summoned. She kept them shut, trying—and failing—to convince herself that the wisp's radiance was actually moonlight beaming down from a cloudless sky. Or the starlight that filtered through the broken roof of Cullen's bedroom. She opened her eyes with a sigh; the wisp's feeble luminescence couldn't hold a candle to the light of the real moon or stars. Dipping her quill in her inkpot, she put pen to paper and began to write.

 _Cullen,_

 _I'm sorry I haven't written sooner. The past few days have been busy. Our first minutes down here really set the tone for our visit so far. I'm sure Harding has recounted the look of terror that crossed my face when she showed off the lift that would take us down to the Deep Roads. I know we have a skilled and capable construction team, but my heart plummeted at the sight of that rickety contraption. In my defense, Blackwall and Cassandra also looked less than thrilled. Varric, as usual, looked amused. I reluctantly stepped onto the wooden platform; my palms began to sweat as we descended. I focused all my attention on the sky as it slowly faded from view. I never truly valued the sun until that moment. I felt only marginally better when my feet touched the ground. Shaper Valta, a highly inquisitive scholar and capable warrior, greeted us at the point of our descent. She was hiding in the shadows when we first met her. I asked why. She told me one glimpse of the sky could get her kicked out of Orzammar. I will never understand the dwarves of this kingdom. I dreaded entering that darkness, Cullen. I tried to stay in the sunlight and breathe in the fresh air for as long as possible, knowing I would be leaving them behind for many days._

 _Immediately after that, we experienced our first quake. Shaper Valta tackled me to push me out of the way of a falling rock larger than Bull. Rather an auspicious welcome, don't you think? We've had several quakes since, and I still can't get used to the solid ground shifting under my feet. After all we've been through, you would think this wouldn't phase me, but it does. I'll admit, after the first one, it took nearly all my restraint to stay underground. I was ready to turn around, take the lift up, and never return. The idea of going any further into those dark caverns made me nauseous. But then I looked at the dwarven corpses covered with sheets. I remembered how the people of Orzammar needed our help, and how the Inquisitor's duty, my duty, is to help those in need. I walked into the shadows, stepping away from the sun and the world above._

 _We've already fought many darkspawn. Such vile creatures. They are well suited for a place as dismal and vile as the Deep Roads. You would approve of Lieutenant Renn of the Legion. He's practical, grounded, logical, and strategic, just like you, my dear commander. He's a skilled fighter as well, though not quite as strapping. Despite my morose melancholy, I am in capable hands, but eager to finish up this business and return to you._

 _Yours,_

 _Nalívæ_


	2. Chapter 2

Cullen set down Nalívæ's letter, frowning slightly. Her tone seemed relatively lighthearted, but the account of her time in the Deep Roads thus far was uncharacteristically blasé. He had witnessed her claustrophobia firsthand when Sera had locked the two of them in a small closet once as a prank. She had been bordering on hysteria when Bull had finally ripped the door off its hinges—Sera had apologized with batches and batches of cookies for nearly a month, long after Nalívæ had forgiven her. He remembered the primal fear in her eyes, how it had eradicated the warmth and curiosity they usually held. She had been shaking violently as she tried to position herself as far away from any of the walls as possible, not that there was really any room to move with the two of them in there. She had avoided him for the rest of that day and the next until he had confronted her.

"It was just…so…embarrassing," she had said, hiding her face in her hands. He had gone on to remind her of all the moments she had seen him at this weakest, when nightmares from the Fade haunted his mind or the symptoms of lyrium withdrawal reared their ugly heads. That had seemed to help, and he had made a mental note to assign missions involving small spaces to others. When the request from Orzammar came, though, he had given it to her with a heavy heart. He couldn't outsource this one. Andraste, please let her mission in Orzammar be successful and short.

 _Nalívæ,_

 _I don't like a foe I can't fight against. Since I cannot launch an attack against the rocks of Orzammar, I shall have to content myself with prayers that you will clear this mess up quickly. Harding did mention your reluctance in her report, but said she hardly blamed you and that you wouldn't see her setting foot in Orzammar for all the riches of Ferelden and Orlais combined. I know it goes without saying, but please be careful. I do not want to have to explain to your father that I let you die in some Maker-forsaken hole in the ground. I shudder to think what he would do to me. And what your mother would do to whatever was left of me._

 _The Inquisition's affairs have been running smoothly in your absence. The Avaar have sent gifts of "exotic" delicacies, many of which smell of pickled fish, and upon tasting, are true to their smell. You'll be pleased to hear Storvacker has proven an excellent agent. I'll admit, I had my doubts about your decision to recruit her, but she has won us approval from other Avaar holds and even helped fight off a wyvern. Don't tell Leliana, but I've grown rather fond of the bear, even if she did mistake me for a cub. I know I will regret mentioning this, since I have seen your affinity for strange creatures firsthand, but perhaps we could find a hold beast for Skyhold. Perhaps a large dog. I've always wanted a Mabari._

 _I shudder to think of you down there. I fought darkspawn during the Fifth Blight. It was not something I ever want to experience again. I am relieved, though, to hear you are working with the Legion of the Dead. Their reputation is impressive. Knowing they have your back will help me sleep better at night. I know being underground is difficult for you, but remember the sun, the Inquisition, and I are all waiting for you to come back safely._

 _Yours,_

 _Cullen_

 **I adore Storvacker. I find the fact she licks Cullen's ruff absolutely hilarious.**


	3. Chapter 3

Nalívæ let out a sharp snicker and then covered her mouth, hoping she hadn't disturbed anyone. She had witnessed firsthand the moment when Storvacker had knocked Cullen over, licking his ruff like he was a dirty cub. The scowl and flush of embarrassment on his face had not prevented her from laughing so hard she nearly cried. Eventually, Cullen even managed to smile at it, though not until a few days had passed.

 _Cullen,_

 _We've had much of the same here in the bowels of the earth. More darkspawn, more spiders, more caves and dark spaces, more bloodstained gears, and more argumentative flirting between Valta and Renn. Bet you can't guess which one of those I actually enjoy. As much as I hate being down here, parts of the Deep Roads are truly magnificent. The sheer scale and majesty of ancient dwarven architecture and engineering takes my breath away. I get a bit giddy when I think that no eyes have settled on these monuments for hundreds of years. But for every fantastic structure, there's a crumbling bridge slowly slipping into the abyss, sunken floors with deep fissures running through them. The fear of misstepping and falling to our deaths hovers around us constantly. We've had a few close calls, especially during combat. Although I'm thankful for the speed and skill of the Inquisition and dwarven construction crews, every time I walk on one of our wooden bridges, my heart is in my mouth. I can never seem to forget the cavernous maw beneath my feet._

 _And we go on like this, fear and anxiety gnawing away at me as we fight battle after battle. Some days, I barely manage to maintain my sanity. One moment, I'll be recovering from a fight, when I'll suddenly feel the walls closing in on me. Or I'll be marveling at statue of a revered dwarven hero that towers over us, and then it suddenly feels like all of the air in the cave is being sucked away. I wake up in the middle of the night feeling like I'm being smothered. This fear has driven me nearly to distraction. I go to bed bone-tired, but I can't sleep. The darkness pushes down on me with what feels like the weight of a whole mountain. I don't know how much more of this I can take._

 _Everyone's caught on to my fear, and they're all trying to help in their own way. Cassandra has started taking the lead more often. If I'm having an especially bad time of it, she'll place her hand on my shoulder. That's Cassandra's version of a hug. Blackwall whittled me a small horse. I don't know where he got the wood, but it's nice to hold onto something not made of stone, something that used to be alive. Sera cracks jokes when she sees me start to go over the edge. They are usually raunchy, mostly about us, with lots of references to desks. Dorian gave me a crystal before I left. It's bright purple and ostentatious, just like him, so it's perfect. It lights up when I touch it, which is a clever little enchantment. The coin you gave me also helps. It gives me a piece of you to hold onto. It's seen me through so much, so I know it will see me through this nightmare. Varric has probably been the most helpful. Aboveground, he's constantly telling stories, but here, they're an even better distraction. He usually regales us with tales of his adventures with Hawke. When I am able to sleep, I drift off with his words in my ear. I especially enjoy the ones about Hawke and Fenris. It's some steamy stuff. Might make for a good companion to Hard in Hightown. Cassandra has been teaching me some of the discipline techniques of the Seekers. Coupled with your breathing exercises and mediation practices, I have felt much calmer. I couldn't ask for a better team down here or back at Skyhold._

 _I'm probably just letting this gloom and doom get the better of me. I sometimes feel I'm indulging in my fear, letting it get the best of me. If this is even half as debilitating as lyrium withdrawal, I don't know how you even managed to get out of bed during the worst of it, let alone command our forces. You are astounding, Cullen. I don't think I say that enough._

 _I knew you liked Storvacker! She's absolutely brilliant. We should most certainly have a hold beast for Skyhold. Perhaps a small dragon. Or a pure white halla! Or a magnificent wolf, though I'm not opposed to a Mabari. I do love dogs. I expect more suggestions from my advisors when I return._

 _Yours,_

 _Nalívæ_


	4. Chapter 4

Maker's breath. They were not getting a dragon, of any size, for Skyhold.

 _Nalívæ,_

 _I'm not sure Bull could stand the excitement of having a dragon in residence. That much constant adrenaline might kill him, and the stress would most certainly kill me._

 _It's not fair to compare the difficulty you're facing in the Deep Roads to lyrium withdrawl. Being terrified of enclosed spaces yet marching underground anyway is no less brave than denying oneself lyrium. Your fear is no less valid. You went into this knowing it was going to be nightmarish, but you strode in anyway, just as you've done in every trying situation. That's what has won you the respect and admiration of the Inquisition and all of Thedas. That, and your many other fine qualities, won you my heart._

 _Dorian is demanding I convey the fact he is pleased you liked his crystal, but quite put out that you haven't written him yet. He also wants to say that you have traded his friendship for a fine ass and a pair of puppy dog brown eyes. He would do the same, but it still hurts. I have only written this because he is refusing to leave my office until I do so. He, Bull, and Cole have finished up their assignment, as has Vivienne. They should be joining you shortly._

 _If Varric's stories of Fenris and Hawke sound unbelievable then they are probably true. They were an odd match. Hawke was feisty, confident, rather obstinate, yet capable of diplomacy and logic. When I had lost my way, she helped remind me that mages were people. Fenris hated mages even more than I did. I didn't know him well, but he had a reputation for surliness, aggression, and violence. He didn't seem the type to fall in love with anyone, much less a mage. Yet whenever I saw them together, it was clear he was utterly devoted to her, and she to him. I can't begin to understand it, but I hope they find one another again._

 _I know this is hard for you, but you will get through this. Nothing has stood in your way and survived (unless you showed it mercy) before, and the Deep Roads will soon be another conquest under your belt. I'm glad you've kept the coin safe, and that it's kept you safe. In some of my darker moments of withdrawal, I would picture the faces of people that I loved: my family, friends, and then, you. Your face got me through more than you will ever know. Stay strong, my love._

 _Yours,_

 _Cullen_

Cullen finished signing his name and looked over the letter. He hoped it helped bring her back from the edge of despair she was tottering on. He feared what would happen if she broke down completely. He knew that people went mad down there in the darkness. He shouldn't have let her go. Or he should have gone with her. He could do nothing for her here except write. His words always seemed inadequate. Black marks on a page that hopefully brought her a few moments of peace. But what else could he do? He stared off into the distance for a moment, looking through the window at the cloud-rimmed Frostbacks, until an idea leaped into his mind. He pushed back his chair and strode out of his office, letter in hand. This would help her. It had to.


End file.
